make a wish

Last Saturday was my birthday. 31, thank you very much.

My mother made me an elmo cake.

Yes she did.
I made some wise-crack the other day about her making me a big-bird cake like when I was 6 and when I showed up at the parental home on Sunday night, Elmo awaited me.

My mother is a good cake baker! Mummm chocolate, my brother did an outstanding Elmo impression (who knew Chad watched Sesame Street) and I marveled at Liz's ability to work with frosting.

All that celebrating reminded me of another picture, another cake, another birthday. This is a shot of my Aunt Pat's birthday in 1976. That's my guess, anyway, because I think the candles on the cake represent 32. (three and two, Grandma must have been trying to save money).

After this there would be a few more birthdays. She died at 37.

Chad (mr. two-year-old next to Pat in the photo) is turning 34 next week. There are different echoes of loss as he and I come closer to mirroring the age of Ken and Pat's parting. I see my parent's loss more clearly, I suppose, and empathise with them anew.

So my birthday wish: To treasure what's here. My parents and brother eating elmo cake. Birthday cheesecake in Oregon and some other treat with friends in Atlanta. Having the congregation sing Happy Birthday to me in worship and riding my bicycle 4o miles on the morning I mark 31 years in the world. Pretty great gifts, if you ask me.

40 miles

Saturday 12:30 a.m: Land at Wichita Mid-Continent Airport after 12 hour trip from Portland International Airport. (see previous post re: grichiness about flying)

12:50 a.m: Reunite with dog. That's always a good moment, isn't it?

1:03 a.m: Discover shampoo has leaked in my bag. Massive clean-up effort required before sleep.

1:57 a.m: Finally wind down enough to fall asleep.

6:15 a.m: Alarm rings beginning preparations for the day's group ride.

7:12 a.m: Wheels rolling. Weird weather, foggy and 70 degrees. Mist continually condensing on my glasses leaving me to wonder if a rag or rain-x or tiny windshield wipers would be the best solution.

8:11 a.m: Joe, who is riding behind me, tells me that green goop is coming from my back end. (nice visual). Upon inspection I see that the "slime" in my slime-tube (to instantly fix flats) has some how sprayed all over my bike, my leg, my shoe and Joe. Sorry Joe!

8:14 a.m: Unable to find source of slime leak. Continue ride from back of the pack to spare anyone else the green spray.

8:50 a.m: Riding on a country road NE of Wichita. Small jack-russell terrier darts from farm house into the MIDDLE of our pack. Dog hit by one or more bicycles. Two riders crash. One seriously scraped. Dog runs away still barking, apparently unharmed. Being at the back of the pack I escape the crash but have to watch it happen. Not pretty.

9:05 a.m: More slime erupts from my rear tire, this time spraying Lori in the face. Sorry Lori!
I slink back to the rear position.

9:08 a.m: Stop at Kwik Shop. Travis changes my rear tube. Small thorn found in the tube, source of the escaped slime. I decide the manufacturer should put warning on the box. True, my tire did not go flat. But I slimed my teammates!

9:18 a.m: Dale declares I will now be known as "slime girl." I declare I will never buy slime tubes again.

10:12 a.m: 40 miles finished. How did I do that on 4 hours sleep? Exercise induced endorphin high leaves me unconcerned. Another good day.

Vacation

I wish I had some amazing pictures to show you from my vacation to the great Northwest. But I don't.

Seems the Bergies camera has taken to eating batteries. And of course I am such a cheapy that I don't own a digital camera. Or a microwave. Or cable. Not that those last two would have helped with the pictures.



So the only shot I have is of my first outing on a wave-runner. It's posed, when I was on the water I was actually wearing a PFD. Saftey first, after all. No matter what Miss Brodie says. Good thing since I almost slung myself off of it a few times. I liked it but it was not the most fun of the vacation. I definitely prefer non-motorized recreation. The rock-climbing and hiking and mountain biking were much more fun, but alas, undocumented.


Newsflash: it sucks to fly. Don't plan on getting anywhere on time. I saw (and experienced) people having delays and cancellations and missed connections all over the place. Disheartening to me when the ticket was so pricey in the first place. But of course it was worth it to be with my Bergs and be in Oregon and be gone from work and remember that there are lots of parts of me that have nothing to do with sitting in my office chair or typing on my computer.


Vacation time makes me feel like a real human being again. Or a whole human being again. I don't know what that says about my routine at work or home except that it is filled with pressure. It is easier to feel whole when you have room to breathe.

Wake up!

I'm groggy.

That's not unusual for Monday morning but this is body tired not just emotions tired. My first clue was that I sounded like a bass until about eleven o'clock this morning. That plus lots of stretching required to get unkinked from sleep and a few yawns show me that we are definitely in training mode. Most of you know that I don't get up easily, ever, but after 9.5 hours asleep I sort of expected to start the day a little fresher. Must have had something to do with 15 miles last night after a typical Sunday morning. Per my training schedule, Sunday "recovery rides" seem important to the process of building endurance. I suppose Monday sleepiness will be a part of the next three months.

As will eating. This weekend I noticed I have become ravenous again. I have experienced this in the past but usually not until the last few weeks before an endurance event. I am a full three months away from the century ride and already this weekend I approached each meal with a voraciousness that would make the casual observer think I hadn't eaten for days. I did ride 77 miles last week and ran one day. But we've got a long way to go. What will I feel like when that weekly mileage doubles? I guess we'll see.

The group ride this weekend was great fun. Another of Coach Travis' routines at some point during the morning is to go down the line and ask everyone by name how they are doing and then answer his own question with a little ditty that includes "there's no where else I'd rather be than right here right now!" As I heard him yelling that out on Saturday I reluctantly had to agree.

The second time out with the group was less stressful and less confusing. Two brand new riders this week means we are up to 19 riders for Tucson. Even in a double paceline we are at least as long as a city bus. I'm not sure we are much slower either, who likes to drive behind a bus?

Two important learnings from the ride...

Lori has x-ray vision. She is always the first to see any debris, gravel, hole, in the road and shout it out to the rest of the team. It doesn't even matter where she is in the line, she sees it first. So riding behind Lori will be a very safe position, if a little loud.

Paula is the sugar shack of our train. We were talking before the ride and found a mutual fondness for knowing when we can next eat. She called it a "food-phobia" but I think she is just well prepared. I told her I occasionally have issues with low blood-sugar and so I like to always have food handy. Really I just need to have Paula handy because she starts every ride well stocked. Mid-ride we had to pull over to check a tire and she came up to me with some "sport beans." Think Jelly Bean made from Gatorade. They were GOOD! I only ate four but felt like I could fly on the next miles. I do realize it was all in my head.

Oh, one update. Seems the crash last week was a little more serious than anyone thought. Heidi fractured her radius (in case you forgot the lessons of tenth grade biology that's one of the two bones in your arm). So Dale's statement about no broken bones in TNT is now out the window. I feel badly for Heidi but crashes are part of living. We fall. We break. We heal. And now our whole team pays a lot more attention to the people in front of them. That's good.

I will miss next week's ride to be in Oregon on vacation. Hopefully I'll be able to post pics from Amy's Annual Adventure 2007.

TNT FAQ

First group ride today…many questions were answered.

Q: What time will we start?
A: Six @$#% Thirty in the morning. Luckily as temps cool and the sun rises later, so will we.

Q: What will a paceline feel like?
A: Odd…at least at first, to get so close to other bikers going 15mph or more. I know it will get easier with more miles. Loud…lots of yelling out commands, “hole, slowing, take the lane, going, one line, debris on right, car back” With 6 adrenaline pumped alumni and 5 nervous rookies it was loud and confusing at first, people yelling at every tiny thing. Challenging…It took concentration! To not run into the person in frontof me, at least. I am sure it will soon become an intuitive way to ride.

Q: Will we crash?
A: Yep. Some poor clip management at a stoplight led to our first crash of the season just 10 miles into group training. It happened in the middle of Douglas and involved our “guest rider” whose 3 yr old son is a Leukemia survivor (she rode for TNT a year ago). Only two people went down, none really hurt. I was told no one has broken a bone in a TNT crash, not in recent memory, at least. I said the paceline took concentration!

Q: How will the team dynamic be?
A: Good. Very good actually. Quality people with very different personalities. It was a fun day of first impressions. There are so many alumni (riders with at least one TNT century to their credit) it feels like us newbies will just be carried along.

Q: What will it mean to have a coach?
A: A pre-ride pep talk and a team cheer. Yep, a team cheer. I am not really a “cheer” kind of girl. You can imagine the suppressed smirk on my face the first time it happened. Of course as the pep-talk and testimonies got going before the ride I kept thinking what we needed to do was pray. Whoops! Guess who's been ensconced in church a little too long! Don’t worry, I was yelling away by the end of the morning.

Q: Is that all Coach Travis does?
A: Lord, no. He is organized and confident and in control of the ride. He’s a good teacher, passionate about TNT, and can yell really loud. Today he was constantly moving up and down the line checking in, giving instructions and encouragement. A great comfort to me, already.

Q: Is it possible to get “runners trots” on the bike?
A: Yep. This is an affliction that often affected my sensitive stomach after long runs. I always contributed it in part to poor hydration, and I think that was a factor today. Even though we started early it was humid and hot. I was concentrating more on not crashing than on drinking water. I’ll have to work on that.

Q: What will be the worst part?
A: Waiting a whole week before we do it again :)

In process

August 1st. Two months since I mailed out my fundraising letters and I have received $2120 in contributions to Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. WOW.

Thank you.

If you would still like to contribute, there is plenty of time. I would like to have the money raised by September 15th so I can focus in on training. That is 2 days before my "recommitment" date (as if I were wavering at this point!)

I took my bike in for a maintenance check this morning. Thought a once over after the wreck would be a good idea. And a clean chain and drive train would be a nice way to start the official training process.

Coach Travis sent out the first training schedule last Wednesday so here is when it gets serious. Up until this point I have been riding as I want, when I want. Now I have a piece of paper with goals for the day and the week.

A schedule. A plan. A process.

Some might chafe under such restrictions. But not me. I thrive. I love the organization, the structure, the satisfaction of watching the days tick by, the progress made, the strength gained. I love that the 100 mile week scheduled for 9/1 looks daunting to me now and by the end of this process it will seem laughably easy. Oheee. I am excited!

Our first group ride is this Saturday. Stay tuned for a report. Travis put as a header on his e-mail "Why does cycling matter...because when you are riding, nothing else does."

Is that true? I think I want to rephrase it because rather than forget about the rest of my life when I bike I enjoy having space to think and reflect and gain perspective on work or relationships or whatever. I don't' have the right re-wording yet. Perhaps it will come to me on tonight's ride.

Crashing

In between working, I've been closely following all the action of Le Tour de France over the last two weeks (I missed week one by being in New Mexico) via the live commentary on the web. As of today Alberto Contador (of team Discovery Channel) is in yellow. For the non-cyclist reader: that means he's winning. I am among the fans who cheered every day this week as another doper was caught and dismissed from the race. I like my sports clean (long live the triumph of Hammerin' Hank).

Along with crazy speeds and impossible climbs, crashes are a consistent part of each day of the Tour. Just about half an hour ago the four stage leaders who had "escaped" from the peloton ran into a stray dog. I mean RAN INTO the dog. Two cyclists crashed and needed medical attention along with new bicycles. World-class athletes having to cope with house pets on the loose. Now that's some quirkiness I can appreciate. Both riders are still competing in the stage, by the way. No word on the dog's condition.

I am no world class rider (this is notsospeedy you are reading, remember) but I did experience my first crash of "the big ride" yesterday in Sedgwick Co. Park.

I ran into a kid.

For the record it was 100% his fault. A fact of which he was well aware after my lecture in English and his mother's in Spanish. Bilingually he was told that riders approaching each other stay on the right side of the road. Each to her right and no one gets hurt. He keep veering left, I kept veering right, it was one of those awful moments of miscommunication where eventually all you can do is run into each other.

Before you go thinking I still bear responsibility considering I am the adult, on a better machine and a more experienced rider, please know that this was a 12 year old boy on a bmx bike who, it appeared, weighs more than I do. If he had been a six-year-old I would have all but stopped as we approached one another. That way I could have adjusted to whatever course he decided to take. But he was almost a teenager, I assumed he knew what to do. He didn't and we crashed head-on.

Thankfully neither we nor our bicycles were hurt. I don't even remember seeing blood. As a crash then, it was less than spectacular. Except for the fact that I hit a kid. And that once he got over being shocked he was traumatized enough to cry. I think he'll remember to keep to the right next time.

I am thankful that the mother helped remove all the burrs from my clothing (especially my bike shorts! Yikes). I wasn't even stiff this morning so I grabbed another quick 10 miles while it was 69 degrees--what a treat for July. It really does pay to get up early (grumble, grumble). And less teenagers on the path at 8am.

I just read that Sandy Casar (involved in the dog crash) was voted the "most aggressive rider" of stage 18 of the Tour. He's got a big wound on his right hip and had to see the race doctor for some pain in his shoulder mid-race. That's a sympathy vote if I've ever seen one. Oh! He just won the stage! What a crazy sport.

we are family

Miss me?
I took last week off from cycling to be on a volunteer work team with the church. Instead of miles on the bike or treadmill my exercise was shoveling dirt, picking apricots, walking all over the McCurdy campus, picking up trash and a few excellent hikes in Northern New Mexico. I did manage to run three out of seven mornings so it wasn’t a total cardio loss.

When I got home late Sunday night I thought I would jump right back into training where I had left off. Wrong. Really wrong. Instead in the days I have been home I have stuggled to do much of anything at all. One brief run. One brief ride. And now it's Friday.

I suppose it was the eight solid days of people and work (let’s be honest, I was with church members) that has left me feeling only like curling up at home when I break free from the office each day. This Friday morning I thought I’d celebrate a day away from church by jumping out of bed at 6:45 and hoping on the bike for a long ride. Instead it's 11:15 and all I’ve accomplished is eating a bagel. Oh the bagel was good, but still.

Okay enough whining. This is for fun anyway right? My body will rest and I will feel like riding and running and all that again. I know a slacker week is just that, a week. Next week will be different.

Besides the best moment of the week re: the big ride didn’t come from training at all. Tuesday I received in the mail a donation from Mary Lou and Larry Grove (thank you!) and a handwritten note reminding me of the more significant part of this enterprise.

(side note: Thanks to all those who have donated. I am now half-way done with the fundraising! Whoo hoo! I appreciate your support immmensly.)

Mary Lou, I hope you don’t mind me quoting you here… She said,

“We remember the struggle your Aunt Pat endured, as well as your folks and grandparents. It was a very difficult time for all of them. Larry and I were in KC keeping your mom company while your dad underwent the harvesting of his bone marrow. We were very aware of Pat’s battle as she tried to beat that terrible disease.
“As we all know, those early procedures provided the foundation for the successful treatments so many people, especially children, are now experiencing. Through the years we have seen several instances and situations which point out the importance of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, a wonderful organization!”

My Aunt Pat didn’t live very many weeks beyond the transplant of her brother's bone marrow. Honestly as a 5 year old I was much more aware of my own father’s suffering through that period than I was my Aunt’s. (that was no small thing, it hurt like hell to donate bone marrow.) But I wasn’t in KC. Her hospital room in those last weeks was no place for a small child. So I say thanks to Mary Lou and Larry and all the other people who sat with my parents, prayed with them, and loved them as they watched her die.


As a pastor I know that most families have holes. Patricia Jane’s absence, my dad's older and only sibling, continues to be one of ours. (picture circa 1947, were they not the cutest pair?) Thankfully the Groves remind me that family is also a whole lot bigger than blood and marriage provide.

Maybe I'll ride my bike today after all.

Stars and Stripes

Today was hot. Appropriate for July 4th, I realize. But after a month of rain and clouds, it was a shock. Riding down Greenwhich Road I kept telling myself, “you’re acclimatizing, you’re acclimatizing, It won’t feel this bad on the next ride,” as my stomach was flipping from the heat.

I rolled into my parent’s driveway and immediately got a report from my ever-ready weatherman.

Dadddy: “Hey! How was the ride?” (all sweaty himself from cutting down tree branches with Chad)

Amy: “Hot. What’s the temperature anyway?”

Daddy: “It’s like 79 or 80 but the humidity is 74%”

Amy: “Where were these clouds an hour ago when I was dying out there?”

Daddy: “To the west.”

Thanks Pop. I especially appreciate the exactness of his report. Note: the humidity was 74%. No estimating for Ken, no sir.

Despite the heat it was a good ride. I realize it is a great luxury to have as my priority for the day riding 30 miles on my bicycle. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for a great family to hang out with the rest of this holiday. I am thankful for the puppies, they wait so patiently, don’t they?


Ah, and I am thankful for freedom. It is Independence Day so I will be thankful for that, just for today. During my ride I saw another cyclist wearing an American Flag jersey...blue backed stars across his shoulders, red and white stripes down his back. I was briefly jealous. Then I remembered I smush all my patriotic feelings into this one day. And I don’t wear holiday-themed clothing. Ever.

One scary moment from the ride: I was out on 31st St S winding around Spirit Aerosystems (formerly known as Boeing) when I almost crashed. I was convincing myself to go two more miles before turning around for home to make sure I hit the 30 mile mark…so I guess I was a little distracted. I reached down for my water bottle, the one that rests against the down tube of my bike because the bottle that is easier to reach was empty. As I leaned down I must have stretched my knee out too far away from the bike because I managed to unclip my right shoe. My foot swung out and back and kicked my rear tire and as I tried to correct the ensuing swerve (with one hand since I had also successfully removed the water bottle and was holding it with my right hand) I went back and forth and back and forth inside my traffic lane. Thankfully there were no cars around, being a holiday and all. I really have no idea how I avoided falling over. But I didn’t, nor did I stop. I found my balance and clipped back in. Lucky. I had visions for the next several miles of chewed up skin, ripped shorts and a very sorry phone call to my parents requesting a pick up.

It is quite possible that I will crash before I get to Tucson. I would just like for it to come from a slightly more impressive reason than, “I was reaching for my water bottle.” Something involving the rescue of small children, perhaps.

Limits

They caught me on Kellogg.
Phooey on the highly efficient speed traps of the Wichita police.

In my defense I was having a rather intense conversation in the car and that section of Kellogg between Rock Rd and Webb feels and looks like an interstate even though the whole silly project is more than a year away from being done. The officer was kind to remind me of that as he wrote my ticket for 54mph in a 35mh. Phooey. PHOOEY!

As I entered the grocery store later yesterday evening I saw a young woman—mid 20’s—calmly walking in handcuffs next to a police officer. Shoplifting? Public Disturbance? I missed whatever drama was to be had in Dillons. But it was a reminder I was not having the worst day in Wichita.
Ready to blow off some steam from my encounter with the law, I went for a bike ride. My first in 10 days thanks to the weirdness of the rainy weather. I’m not sure it was 70 degrees this afternoon. On the ride I passed another oddity.

In Sedgwick County Park there is a sign on the bike path posting a speed limit of 30mph. It is clearly for the bike path not the neighboring traffic on 13th street. No Chad, I am not confused. I wonder which county department I can call to ask, “who in the hell is going to go over 30mph on the bike path?”

I have a cyclometer on my bike. I enjoy seeing how fast I am going…or how much that Kansas headwind is slowing me down. Even descending the biggest hills I don’t think I’ve surpassed 28mph. Of course I am not super brave and I could find a bigger hill (say in Colorado) and go much faster. The Tour de France riders this month will top 50mph on their descents.

No matter. The 30mph sign is on a flat part of the bike path. Who are they trying to control with this sign? 30mph is professional rider paceline speed. And I haven’t seen any of them in Sedgwick County Park.

Unbreakable speed limits, just another reason to bike to work.